Chapter Sixty-Five: The Snow Calamity

Anzi had never seen such heavy snow in his life. The next morning, he was in the courtyard building a snowman. Banxia stood at the edge, wrapped in thick winter robes, draped in a cloak, holding a hand warmer, watching him and occasionally offering suggestions.

“Madam, the snow is deep—you shouldn’t stay outside for long. Please have your breakfast first,” Shanzhi reminded Banxia as she brought the morning meal.

“Sister, you should eat inside. Once I’m done, you can come out to see,” Anzi called.

“Very well. Don’t take off your gloves, or you’ll end up with frostbite,” Banxia replied.

Breakfast was a bowl of minced meat porridge accompanied by some appetizing side dishes. In Liangzhou, the winds were strong and sand swept through the land; vegetables were rarely seen. Gansui had specially built a heated greenhouse in the courtyard for Banxia to grow some greens, but the seeds hadn’t sprouted yet.

Halfway through her meal, Anzi came in, “Quick, come warm up. Do you want more breakfast?”

“I’m already done—you eat. Did brother-in-law leave early again?”

“With such heavy snow, there’s much to do. I heard the county below suffered a severe snow disaster, so he left at dawn with his men to inspect it. He won’t be back by noon,” Banxia said, glancing outside. Snow still drifted thickly from the sky, the wind howling. Clumps of snow occasionally battered against the window panes, rattling noisily. Banxia frowned, feeling an inexplicable worry.

Seeing her expression, Anzi quickly comforted her, “Brother-in-law only went to inspect the situation—there’s nothing to worry about, Sister.”

Banxia didn’t want Anzi to share her worries. She smiled and continued eating.

Hanshui drove Gansui to the county town. Along the road, people swept away the accumulated snow, but it was so thick that he dared not urge the horses faster, proceeding slowly. A journey that usually took half a day now took over an hour. By the time they arrived, the sky had cleared somewhat—the first glimmer of sunshine after the snow.

At the county office, not a single guard was in sight. Gansui walked inside, and just as he approached the main entrance, an officer staggered out from a side room, cap askew, scowling fiercely, “Who are you? Do you know where you are? Don’t just walk in or you’ll find yourself locked up!”

The common people’s fear and loathing of the government often stemmed from such minor officials—always quick to menace, putting on airs despite their insignificance.

Gansui had no interest in squabbling with this petty official. He produced his credentials, “Is the county magistrate in?”

The officer took it but didn’t open it. “I can’t read. Why give me this? Just say your business—do you think the magistrate has nothing better to do than meet every visitor?”

“Gansui, Prefect of Liangzhou, here to inspect the snow disaster in Ling County.”

“Prefect… Prefect! Sir, I didn’t know it was you…”

“Is Magistrate Wang here?”

“Yes… No… I’m not sure,” the officer stammered, cold sweat breaking out.

“Then go inside and announce me. The assistant magistrate must be present, at least.”

The officer hurried inside.

Soon, the assistant magistrate stumbled out. Just half a month ago, he had accompanied the magistrate to the prefecture and met Gansui; now the impression was even stronger. “Assistant Magistrate Qian, is Magistrate Wang not in his office?”

“The magistrate is ill, resting in the back courtyard.”

“Ill? Then I’ll pay him a visit.”

“Sir… that’s not convenient…” Qian’s evasive face made it clear he was lying. Gansui strode toward the inner offices, saying as he walked, “I don’t care if your magistrate is truly ill—unless he can’t get out of bed, he’d better be in the main hall within half an incense stick’s time.”

Gansui marched inside with long strides. The assistant magistrate hesitated—should he stop him or go announce the magistrate? Just as he faltered, Gansui had already passed the main hall, forcing Qian to stamp his foot and rush toward the back offices.

Gansui pushed open the door and entered. Several people inside looked at him in terror. Now he understood why the assistant magistrate had tried so hard to hold him back—things hadn’t been tidied up yet. The room was warm from a brazier, thick with the scent of wine and meat; dice lay scattered beneath the table. While the common folk’s houses collapsed and lives hung by a thread, these men were feasting and gambling behind closed doors.

“Well, you’re really something,” Gansui said.

He ignored them, found a chair, and sat down with his eyes closed, resting.

“Sir, Sir, Magistrate Wang… disaster!” Magistrate Wang was still in bed, cuddling a concubine, enjoying another nap, when he heard frantic knocking.

Annoyed, he asked, “What’s going on, shouting so early?”

“The prefect… the prefect is already in the main hall—he’s asked you to go at once.”

Magistrate Wang scrambled up to dress. He was fat, the winter clothes thick, sweat pouring down his brow as he fumbled with his garments. He woke his concubine and they dressed together.

Gansui waited nearly an incense stick’s time before Magistrate Wang finally arrived.

As he entered, Gansui opened his eyes. “I hear you’re ill, Magistrate Wang? You look quite rosy—not at all like you’re sick.” He fixed his gaze on him.

Magistrate Wang wiped his sweat, “I took some medicine yesterday, feeling better today.” Seeing Gansui alone in the chair, he turned to the others, “Why are you all standing around? The prefect’s here and no one’s served tea yet!”

He hurried to fetch the teapot, only to find it empty, stopping awkwardly.

“Let’s dispense with the pleasantries. Let’s discuss the snow disaster victims.”

“Very well, the victims…” Magistrate Wang took out a handkerchief to wipe his brow.

“Let’s start with Wang Dan Niu, the most severely affected. What’s his situation—how have you arranged for him?”

“Wang Dan Niu… Wang Dan Niu…” Magistrate Wang was clueless—even yesterday’s report had been written by a clerk, and he hadn’t even read it.

“Not familiar with him? Then tell me about Zhang Erdan’s family.”

“I… I…”

“Still don’t know? Then just tell me what you do know.”

“Um…” Magistrate Wang looked to the assistant magistrate.

“Sir, let me…”

“You be quiet—I didn’t ask you.”

“So Magistrate Wang knows nothing about the county’s affairs?”

Magistrate Wang dropped to his knees. “I am guilty, Sir. I’ve been ill these days, bedridden, so there have been lapses in administration. I beg your forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness? How am I to forgive you? The people’s homes have collapsed, they are homeless, their crops buried in snow, their stomachs empty. And in this snowy weather, you sit here eating meat and drinking wine, comfortably lying about. What about them? Magistrate Wang, wearing these robes, you are their parent-official. Search your conscience—are you worthy of your mantle, of your salary?” Gansui rarely angered, but this time he was truly furious. “We’ll address your dereliction later. For now, let’s go inspect the streets.”

The situation on the streets was even more dire: heading toward the southern district, four blocks of houses had collapsed. Again and again, the elderly, women, and children could be seen huddled in dilapidated homes, trembling, their lips purple from cold.

These were the fortunate ones with shelter. As for the homeless beggars, their stiff bodies lay beside the road.

“I recall the prefecture allocated funds specifically for repairs—Magistrate Wang, tell me why so many houses still collapsed.”

“The houses were old, Sir. We did try repairs, but the snow was too heavy…” Magistrate Wang mumbled.

“Hanshui, go ask around—did anyone actually come to repair them?”

Hanshui hurried off. Magistrate Wang’s face turned pale, trembling, “Sir, we’re colleagues—please don’t be so ruthless.” The assistant magistrate offered a stack of silver notes, “A small token of respect.”

Gansui took the money and smiled. Magistrate Wang and Assistant Magistrate Qian relaxed—the prefect accepting silver meant things might be smoothed over.

“You there, come here,” Gansui summoned a subordinate.

The officer stepped forward, “At your command, Sir.”

“Take this silver to the city’s rice shop and buy rice,” Gansui handed over two large notes, each worth a hundred taels. He gave another note to a second officer, “Find a few more men, purchase some pots, winter clothes, and coal. There’s an old temple nearby—get people there to cook porridge. It’s so cold, people need something hot to drink.”

He handed the last note to the assistant magistrate, “Assistant Magistrate, use this to hire more craftsmen. Make sure all the collapsed homes are repaired—this time, I don’t want to hear any excuses about old construction. Understood?”

“Understood, understood, Sir. I’ll get on it right away.”

With Gansui overseeing them personally, none dared slack off. By midday, the first pot of porridge was ready.

“Everyone, don’t crowd—line up. There’s enough for all,” Gansui personally ladled the porridge. Magistrate Wang, unable to stand by, joined in. Not used to hard work, his arm ached from ladling but he couldn’t stop. There were too many victims, and a hot meal was precious—many returned for a second bowl. Magistrate Wang was tempted to curse, but, with Gansui nearby, he had to swallow his words and put on the face of a devoted official.

A bowl of hot porridge warmed the body and the heart. People who thought they would die this winter found themselves weeping—tears full of pent-up grievances.

Gansui and his team distributed porridge until afternoon, cooking several large pots. When hungry, they ate some themselves. Waves of people came, and as dusk approached, Gansui prepared to return.

“Prefect, would you care to stay the night?” Magistrate Wang tried to persuade him. The path of bribery had failed, but perhaps a beauty might work. He had the assistant magistrate select a skilled, attractive girl to warm the prefect’s pillow that night. Years in office had taught him that it wasn’t the work that mattered, but fulfilling the wishes of his superiors.

“No, I’ll not stay. I must report to my superiors. Everything is arranged, and I’ll return to inspect in a few days. Magistrate Wang, mind your conduct,” Gansui said bluntly, then boarded his carriage and left with Hanshui.

“Sir… Where is Prefect Gansui?” The assistant magistrate hurried over, arrangements made.

“He’s gone. This prefect won’t be bribed—things look grim for us,” Magistrate Wang said, dark-faced.

“Sir, perhaps we should go all the way,” the assistant magistrate suggested, making a slashing gesture.

“No, absolutely not. We cannot harm him,” Magistrate Wang shook his head.

“We won’t hurt him. Let Dahei and Erhei scare him a little—maybe a fright will make him forget about this place.”

Magistrate Wang considered, “All right, but remember—no real harm is to come to him.”